


You take my breath away

by youcantsaymylastname



Series: Kraken aren't just monsters -- they're pointmen too [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, Sentient flowers, Tentacles, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcantsaymylastname/pseuds/youcantsaymylastname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames knows that Arthur is a kraken. Eames has yet to see Arthur animorph but understands it takes trust before you can show someone your animal side. Unfortunately, the ninja army assassins hell bent on stealing Arthur didn't read the trust memo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You take my breath away

**Author's Note:**

> Bingo Square two: aphrodisiacs  
> This might be a cross between sex pollen and aphrodisiacs...  
> A big thank you to Chasingriver who betaed while she's very busy writing her own stories. I appreciate the feedback and moral support.

Arthur knew the minute the skylights darkened for a fraction of a second, hinting at the danger to come, the shadows enough to make his were-senses prickle.

“Eames, get down,” said Arthur calmly as he stood up, pulling his gun from his briefcase, knowing his weapon wouldn’t help. He could smell what the army had sent this time to disable him before the commandos followed behind expecting Arthur to be unable fight. ‘Cocky bastards!’ thought Arthur defiantly as he scented the air. 

Eames slid under his desk, gun drawn, looking at the skylights, knowing inexplicably that he couldn’t see the intruders but trusting Arthur’s instincts completely. 

“Who’s coming to visit, pet?” drawled Eames, as though he were lounging at a bar trying to seduce him, not crouching under designer Norwegian modular office furniture waiting for the gunfire to start.

“Special Ops tactical retrieval unit, but they’re sending in a distraction to keep us occupied until they subdue me.” Arthur barked out a harsh noise that could be a laugh. “Once I'm back at the lab, they’ll wipe my memories and use my mind for horrific dream heists and my body for torturous experiments that most enemy combatants never recover from,” said Arthur, bitterly watching the door. “When I say ‘now,’ hold your breath.”

“Pardon?” Eames would have laughed if it wasn't such a serious moment. What the hell did the Spec Ops division hope to accomplish in a bustling French warehouse near the Bois de Boulange without causing a scene?

Did they not know Arthur’s connection to Mallorie Cobb? Mal had been part of a hush-hush French/American militia division. Although her rank was never disclosed to Eames, it was rumored that Mal had been court martialed after she ran a successful rogue mission in the eastern bloc. 

If Arthur went missing, Mal would definitely fly her ‘don't ask where she got it from’ black-ops helicopter (hidden on the roof of her father's university building) and track Arthur-napping ninja soldiers down. Eames shuddered to think what would become of them if they dared touch a hair on her darling boy.

Were Arthur’s were-animal powers so unique that the special ops team couldn't function without Arthur even if Arthur was unwilling?  
“They’re sending in special sentient flowers. Their pollen is a powerful alien aphrodisiac. Most people can’t stop themselves from falling in love, or else they pull off their clothes and start having sex immediately. I can hold my breath because I'm an underwater were-type! I'm sadly disappointed by their shoddy researching skills. I’m a kraken for Christ sakes. Ok.... now!”

Eames took a deep breath as large, bright-green vines began slithering up through the floor. As the vines grew, they thrust upwards into tall stalks, sprouting shiny green leaves. The roots knitted themselves together making bizarre feet. The flowers bloomed with large pink and green stringy petals wiggling outwards, the flowers the size of Arthur’s head. Arthur grabbed the stalk of the flower closest to him, as it clomped towards him on its root-woven feet. 

The fragrant flowers opened further, their stringy petals shooting glittery pollen, sparkling in tiny green and hazy purple puffs. The noxious pollen floated around Eames’ head. 

Eames was nearing his capacity to hold his breath — he needed fresh air — when Arthur’s tentacles appeared from his back and slowly extended their reach. They ripped through his clothing, not attacking, but definitely ready to fight. 

Eames realized Arthur had gorgeous, lithe brown and gold appendages that began pulling Eames closer to Arthur but also partially covered his mouth and nose without strangling or causing him to stop breathing.

Eames realized Arthur was preventing the toxin from attacking him. Arthur’s selflessness when he was in grave danger made Eames desire him more than ever. Arthur refused to be cowed by the Army. They’d tortured him, but he refused to leave dream share; instead, Arthur became indispensable to their tiny knit community. 

Arthur was a dichotomy. Selfless and maddening, yet the most hardened fighter and aggressive tactician on their extraction team —excluding Mal, who had been part of les troupes aéroportées that parachuted out of Iraq and Africa while running those only hinted at highly classified missions. 

Mal was a champion sharpshooter, a medal winning parachutist, but most importantly, she adored Arthur. Her mission, if Eames failed, would be destroy those who dared to take her petit Chou. 

Eames felt the soft tentacles slide around his body, protecting him from the haze of pollen lazily circling the room as it caught the light. Arthur had shot and ripped apart several very aggressive sentient flowers that wanted to claw and maim Arthur. His tentacles waved and floated through the air, grabbing flowers and pulling them apart. 

“Eames how do you feel? We need to leave, down the back stairs,” Arthur looked quickly behind him at Eames’ messy hair, glassy eyes and goofy smile. 

“Darling, your tentacles match your suit! You're like a chameleon! What would your tentacles feel like against my bare skin?”

Arthur sighed, shaking his head as he pulled Eames towards the fire escape. “You need fresh air. The pollen is messing with your hormones.”

Eames wanted to stop Arthur as they raced down the fire escape. Two tentacles held onto Eames by his biceps, keeping him upright and balanced as the buzz from the pollen destroyed his equilibrium. 

Arthur scanned the boulevard for ninjas and sentient flowers, but tourists were out snapping photos with their mobiles and Parisians walked past Arthur with his roiling tentacles as though this was an everyday occurrence. Boring! 

“When I come down from my sex pollen high, you owe me a tentacle body rub,” said Eames, staring lustfully at Arthur’s swaying tentacles, watching delightedly as the closest appendage swooped carefully towards his cheek, caressing his stubble softly. “Or you could come back to mine now,” he added, before his eyes fluttered shut and he fainted into the many arms of Arthur. 

Arthur hugged Eames close before his tentacles returned under his skin where they belonged. Arthur hated to be out in a crowd when he animorphed. 

He kissed Eames on the forehead as he flagged down a cab to take Eames home. “Sweet dreams, Mr. Eames.”


End file.
